


You Again

by tinywoodenrobot



Category: Ouran High School Host Club - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Happy Ending, Haruhi already has a cell phone, Haruhi is not oblivious about feelings, Haruhi joins the Host Club willingly, Honey and Mori are close but not as close as they are in canon, Kyouya and Haruhi are total bros, Kyouya is a hella good wingman, Kyouya is really a super nice person, Love Confessions, Mutual Pining, also everyone knows that Haruhi is a girl, this isn't really a comedy but I tried to stay true to each character's canon personality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:28:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 13,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26743618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinywoodenrobot/pseuds/tinywoodenrobot
Summary: She's surrounded by them, a field of blue rose bushes. It makes her laugh, these unnaturally-colored flowers. "Blue roses don't exist in real life," she laughs, as she leans over to pluck one from its home. "They're just a figment of my imagination." She lifts the flower to her nose to take in its scent.It smells like his cologne."Are these your roses, Mori-senpai?" She murmurs the question, and it is only then that she realizes she's clad from throat to ankle in yellow taffeta. Despite its cheerful color, the fabric makes her feel sad. "It's hideous!" She shouts it into the field of rose bushes. "It makes me look like a banana..."
Relationships: Fujioka Haruhi/Morinozuka Takashi
Comments: 55
Kudos: 171
Collections: Anime FF





	1. About You

The first time she sees him, the sky is blue and clear. The clouds are fluffy, and they remind her of the cotton candy she used to beg her parents for at the festivals when she was little. It's beautiful, this slice of heaven that she can see between the tall brick buildings of Ouran's campus, and so intently is she looking at it that she doesn't see the boy in front of her until she's almost head butted him. 

Head butted him in the chest, that is, because he stands at least a foot taller than her. 

"I'm sorry," she offers quickly but sincerely, looking up, up, _up_ at his face. It's hard to read his expression, and not just because the sun is behind him. _Impassive,_ is what she would say if asked. _His face is impassive._

It's also a handsome face, she notes almost absently. As a whole, the boy in front of her is what her father would probably call 'conventionally good-looking.' His jaw is set in a way that turns his mouth into something resembling a frown, but he doesn't look angry or upset. His dark gray eyes study her carefully, and Haruhi finds it more than just a little unnerving. 

"I'm sorry," she offers again, this time supplementing her words with a tentative smile. "The sky is so beautiful today, I really wasn't paying much attention to where I was going." 

"Mm," the boy grunts in response, his expression only changing slightly into one of understanding as he nods. "Don't worry about it." His voice is exactly how she expected it would be: quiet, deep, rich.

Before she can form another thought - let alone voice another word - he's gone, walking on in the direction he was heading towards before their encounter. 

*

The second time she sees him, it's from a distance in the dining room. Haruhi has never eaten here before; the food is much too expensive and too fanciful for her tastes. In her morning haste, however, she forgot to pack chopsticks in her lunch box and is hoping she can snag a pair from the dining room without too much of a fuss. 

She's on her way out of the dining room, chopsticks in hand, when she spots him. He isn't hard to miss, this giant of a boy, and what is more, the handsome face that maintained such a stoic expression when she first saw him, is now lit up in obvious amusement. It startles her when a ghost passes over the front of her brain - _I wonder if he would ever look at me that way_ \- and she shakes her head, trying to banish the unwarranted thought. 

He is on his way into the dining room; she is on her way out. Just for a moment, she looks up at him. He's looking back at her, and his face has registered mild surprise. He says nothing, though, his attention going quickly back to the source of his animated expression - the short blonde boy walking beside him. The blonde hasn't noticed Haruhi at all, and he seems to be regaling his taller friend with an anecdote of some sort. 

Just as she hits the doorway, she hears it: that deep, rich, quiet voice. She finds it odd, the way that she's managed to pick it up even over the din of the crowded dining room. 

She only allows herself to ponder what it means for a moment. 

*

The Hitachiin twins, Haruhi thinks, are probably the most irritating set of humans she's ever encountered. 

Having discovered that Haruhi has an almost-uncanny knack for telling the two brothers apart, Hikaru and Kaoru have made it their new life's goal to get Haruhi to guess wrong. It's a game that she neither agreed to play nor enjoys, yet the twins insist she indulge them. 

Not for the first time, she wonders if having to put up with hundreds of spoiled, rich brats is just the price she must pay for Ouran's unparalleled education. 

"Haruhiiiiiii," Hikaru's singsong voice is alarmingly close, and Haruhi turns toward the sound, flinching as her eyes meet a pair of amber colored ones that are too close for comfort. Before she can respond, Hikaru continues, "Drop your afterschool plans and come with us."

"Can't," she answers shortly. "My afterschool plans are to study."

"Don't be a party pooper," Kaoru chimes in. "We want you to come by the Host Club."

Unfazed, she shakes her head. "Not interested."

"You don't even know what it is!" Hikaru's voice comes out as a whine, and it grates on Haruhi's nerves. 

"We won't leave you alone until you agree," Kaoru says, grinning at her good-naturedly. "It'll only take a few minutes, and your first visit is on us."

"It'll be fun," Hikaru adds. 

"Jeez," Haruhi explodes. "Look, if I go, you have to promise to leave me alone."

"Of course," Hikaru purred. "We’ll leave you alone."

"For good, I mean," Haruhi adds sternly. "No more forcing me to guess which one of you is which."

The twins hesitate for a moment, exchanging a glance. "Haruhiiiii," Hikaru whines her name again. "Don’t take away the best part of class..."

Exasperated, Haruhi throws her hands up. "Fine," she relents, defeated. "But only because you look so pitiful." A laugh escapes in spite of herself, and the twins’ faces light up.

"Meet us in music room three after school," Kaoru offers mischievously. "You won’t be sorry."

*

The third time she sees him, he sees her first. 

The twins are gushing over her, each one draped over one of her arms, finishing each others’ sentences in that irritating, rapid-fire way they have. She’s only halfway inside the room when she realizes that there are others present, boys she’s sure she has seen around campus: that slender, pretty blonde boy with the purple eyes; the handsome bespectacled young man with hair so black it looks almost blue; the short, oddly adorable honey-blonde with the big brown eyes…

...and  _ him _ . 

It doesn’t register that they’re all out of uniform until her eyes fall on him. His clothes are simple - he’s wearing dark blue jeans, a black tee, and a camo jacket. She thinks her favorite thing about the outfit is the silver ring he’s wearing on his index finger. Haruhi wouldn’t have pegged him as the type that would wear jewelry, but the simplicity of it suits him. 

Her thoughts are interrupted by the purple-eyed blonde. Somehow in just a matter of seconds, he has moved into her space, grabbed her left hand in his right, and gingerly pressed a kiss to it. "Allow me to introduce myself," he begins, and Haruhi wonders how many young ladies of Ouran fame he’s used that voice on. "My name is Tamaki Suoh, and this is the Ouran High School Host Club." He moves his arm in a broad, sweeping arc. "This gentleman here in the spectacles is our Vice President and resident fact-finder, Kyouya Ootori. You already know the Hitachiin twins, the reason for your visit today. To your left, Mitsukuni Haninozuka - Honey-Senpai - and his precious Usa-Chan—" he was pointing to the pink stuffed rabbit in the honey-blonde boy’s arms — "and Takashi Morinozuka - Mori-Senpai." 

_ Takashi. Takashi. Takashi. _ Haruhi says the name over and over again in her mind, liking the sound of it.  _ Takashi. His given name is Takashi _ . "Why… why am I here?" She asks, hesitantly. 

Tamaki Suoh seems genuinely confused at her question. He looks at the twins. "Didn’t you tell her? "

The Hitachiins exchange a sheepish glance. "We thought she wouldn’t come if we did," Kaoru admits cagily. 

"Tell me what?" Haruhi extracts herself from Tamaki’s grasp. 

"I see," the blonde muses. Undeterred, he turns back toward Haruhi. "Well, the twins here thought it might be a good idea to ask you to join the Host Club," he explains, as though it’s a perfectly natural thing to ask. "You see, they’ve noticed that, ah… despite being a girl, you wear the Ouran boys’ uniform. We thought that meant —"

"It’s cheaper," Haruhi interrupts reasonably. "And infinitely more comfortable than those ridiculous tea dresses. Sorry to burst your bubble. I’m not a cross-dresser. Not that I have anything against them," she adds hastily, thinking of Ranka. 

Tamaki eyes her earnestly. "You mean… you’re not at all interested in joining our little Club?"

"What exactly do you do here?" Haruhi asks, sidestepping the question. 

"We make young ladies’ dreams come true," Tamaki says airily. "Indulge every whim, fulfill every fantasy. The ladies of Ouran come here to be entertained, to find happiness with us, to feel special."

Haruhi still doesn't quite understand what it all means. "I’m really sorry the twins led you on," she says, genuinely apologetic. "But I’m not at all interested."

For the first time, Kyouya Ootori speaks. His tone of voice is quiet, but matter-of-fact, as he says, "I’ve noticed that the collar of your uniform blazer is starting to discolor."

"So?" Haruhi retorts defensively. 

"It’s a sign of improper treatment and care," Kyouya states, paying no heed to the red flush on Haruhi’s cheeks. "With just one month of working with the Host Club," he continues, "you would make enough to take your uniform to the proper sort of cleaners whenever you needed to. Beyond that, you’d be able to buy three or four more uniforms, in order to avoid having to wear the same one every day. Not to mention being able to have them professionally tailored to properly fit you," he adds with a knowing smile. 

It’s a blow to Haruhi’s pride. She’s embarrassed, but she refuses to show it. "I don’t care about the stupid uniform," she snaps back. "But it would be nice to have some padding for my college fund." She pauses briefly, wondering if these rich brats even know about college funds. "But let's say, hypothetically speaking, that I do decide to join. What’s in it for you?" She narrows her eyes, not breaking eye contact with Kyouya Ootori. 

He isn’t the one who answers. "Simply put," Tamaki Suoh starts, with another grand, sweeping gesture of his arms, "we need a face like yours." 

"This is a Host Club, not a Hostess Club," Haruhi protests pointedly. "Everyone at Ouran who knows me, knows I’m a girl."

"All the better," Tamaki laughs. "There are clients of ours who have been asking for something that suits their tastes. I think you might be exactly what we’ve been looking for." He flashes her a dazzling smile. "So what do you say, Haruhi Fujioka?" 

She's not sure how to respond. 

"Perhaps you should take a day or two to think about it," Kyouya offers casually. "You know where to find us once you've made up your mind." 

Haruhi nods without a word, and moves toward the door. She looks back once before leaving, and her eyes meet a pair of dark gray ones. 

  
  
  
  



	2. Say So

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She cocks her head to the side, studying him. “Of all the questions you could ask, that’s the one you chose?” 
> 
> “It seems like the most important one,” he shrugs. “After all, if you aren’t going to join, all the other questions are irrelevant… right?”

“I’m home!” She calls out, shutting the door behind her. 

“Welcome back,” Ranka replies in a singsong voice, peeking around the corner of the kitchen doorway to flash her a smile. “How was school?”

Haruhi sets her bag down and slides out of her loafers. “Stranger than usual,” she murmurs. 

“Hmm?” 

“What are you making?” She peers into the pot on the stove, utterly unable to identify anything in it. 

“I’m… not really sure,” Ranka laughs sheepishly. “I tried my hand at doing what you do, and making something fabulous out of the ingredients in the pantry.” He shrugs. “I suppose it didn’t work out so well.”

Haruhi hums thoughtfully, but her mind isn’t on the… _whatever_ is in the pot. 

“So what happened at school today that made it stranger than usual?” 

“Oh,” Haruhi says softly. “I got asked to join a Host Club.” 

The news doesn’t seem to surprise her father. “Are you going to?” He asks, without hesitation. 

She cocks her head to the side, studying him. “Of all the questions you could ask, that’s the one you chose?” 

“It seems like the most important one,” he shrugs. “After all, if you aren’t going to join, all the other questions are irrelevant… right?”

Haruhi considers this, and unbidden, Takashi’s face comes to mind. _Mori-Senpai,_ she reminds herself. _Only the people closest to him can call him Takashi._ “I don’t know,” she starts slowly. “It would help me save for college. And it seems like I’d make a lot more than I would having a part-time job anywhere else. But…” She trails off, takes a breath, and starts again. “Ouran is so ridiculous,” she laughs softly. 

Her father shrugs again. “It’s a school for rich kids,” he points out. “It has no choice but to be ridiculous.” He grabs the pot from the stove and dumps the contents into the garbage. “It wasn’t edible anyway,” he explains at Haruhi’s quiet noise of protest. “I’ll eat something on the way to work tonight.” 

*

_Can you give me Ootori-senpai’s email, please?_

_Why?_

_Because I don’t have it._

_And I have some things I want to ask him._

_ARE YOU GOING TO JOIN?_

A sigh of annoyance escapes her. “I should have known better than to text Hikaru,” she mumbles. 

_I haven’t decided yet._

_Are you going to send me his email or not?_

_Only if you tell me what you plan to ask him._

_Not on your life._

_I guess I’ll just find him tomorrow._

  
  


_Wait, Haruhi! Here, I’ll give it to you._

*

**_Haruhi (I hope it’s alright that I’ve taken the liberty of using your first name),_ **

**_Thank you for your email. I must admit that I was pleasantly surprised to hear from you - I was convinced that when you walked out of the door to the music room yesterday, that was the last I’d see of or hear from you. I’m glad to see that you’ve taken an interest in joining the Host Club._ **

**_You raised some fantastic questions, and I hope the answers I’ve provided below can set your mind at ease. Feel free to reach out if you come up with any additional queries._ **

  * **_As you may have surmised, our Host Club doesn’t differ much from a normal Host Club. Our objective is to provide a space where the ladies of Ouran can feel truly appreciated and receive special, individualized entertainment. For each day that the Club is open for business, we adopt a theme that’s been chosen well in advance. Costumes and props for each theme are taken care of by the Host Club’s budget. I manage this budget myself, so you will never have to worry about it. Your job as a host is simple: serve tea and snacks to our guests, and keep them company with conversation. Be engaged, and make them feel special. Those are the fundamental duties of hosts._**


  * _**Every Friday, you will receive a deposit in an account set up for you by the Club. That deposit will include your income for the previous week as well as any tips that are given by way of credit card. In the event that your guests give you cash tips, those will be handed directly to you by the guests themselves. Tips are not shared among the hosts; what you receive as a tip is for you and you alone, and no one else will take that from you.**_


  * _**Each host has access to a private changing room; you would not be an exception. Changing rooms are located in the rear of the music room and all of the rooms can be locked from inside. (Not that you have anything to worry about; should you decide that you want to join the Club, we will all make sure you have the amount of privacy you need.)**_


  * _**I have not forgotten that you are here as an honor student; as such, I realize that you need a sufficient amount of time for your studies in order to keep your grades up. If at any time, you feel as though your Host Club duties are interfering with your schoolwork, notify me immediately, and you may take a hiatus from the Club and resume when you are caught up. This is non-negotiable - Club activities are optional; good grades are not.**_


  * _**In addition, if at any time you feel the Host Club is no longer a good fit for you, you may leave. There’s no obligation to stay, and the contract you will sign is merely an agreement outlining your consent to the Host duties… although I do hope you will find that you enjoy working with us and won’t have a reason to leave.**_



**_I hope I’ve covered everything and sufficiently answered your questions. I also hope you don’t mind me speaking frankly: I think you would be a fantastic addition to the Club, and I look forward to hearing what you decide._ **

**_-Kyouya_ **

*

_I wonder if he's aiming to be the head of some big company when he gets older,_ Haruhi thinks to herself, after reading his email a third time. _He’s so… business-like._

Her questions have been answered, though, and she has surprised herself with the amount of thought she’s put into considering accepting his offer. His phone number is included at the bottom of the email, below his signature, and Haruhi types the digits into her cell phone, wondering if it’s too late in the evening for a phone call. 

“Hello?” He answers on the second ring. He doesn’t sound surprised to hear from her, and it makes Haruhi wonder. 

“Hello, Ootori-san,” she starts. “I--”

“Kyouya is fine,” he interrupts her with a chuckle. “I don’t see the need for us to be so formal with each other when we might be working very closely together soon.”

“I…” Haruhi inhales. “How about Kyouya-senpai?” 

He chuckles again. “I’ll accept that.”

She nods, even though she knows he can’t see it. “I think I’ve made my decision,” she starts quietly. “I’d like to try the Host Club.” 

“I’m very happy to hear that, Haruhi… you don’t mind me calling you Haruhi, do you?”

“No,” she answers honestly, after only a moment of hesitation. “I don’t mind.” 

“Well then, shall I see you in music room three at 4pm tomorrow?”

“Yes,” she replies, and she’s surprised to find that she’s smiling. “I’ll be there.” 


	3. Sugar Rush

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He shrugs. “About the same.” He’s quiet for a moment, and then he speaks again. “Fujioka-san--”
> 
> “Just Haruhi is fine,” she interrupts him with a smile. “It sounds so formal for you to call me Fujioka-san.”

Haruhi has never really been fond of sweet things. 

She likes her coffee bitter. She scrapes the icing off of her cake before she eats it. She’d much rather have a piece of fruit than a chocolate bar. 

Honey-senpai finds this hard to believe. 

“You mean… you  _ really _ don’t like cake?” The small third-year shakes his head incredulously. “How can you live that way?”

It makes Haruhi laugh. She’s only been working with the club for about three weeks, but already she has come to appreciate each of her fellow hosts’ varying personalities. Honey-senpai is one of her favorites - and an anomaly in how he is probably the only sweet thing that Haruhi has ever been truly fond of.

“I guess I was just born without a sweet tooth,” she shrugs good-naturedly. 

“That’s alright, Haru-chan,” Honey-senpai shrugs cheerfully. “I still like you anyway!” He tugs on her arm. “Come and sit with Takashi and me today - we haven’t had our week with you yet!”

In the time since she’s joined the club, Haruhi has spent one week with each host - first with Kyouya, then with Tamaki, and then with the Hitachiin twins. During her week with Kyouya, she’d been fascinated at his ability to get his guests to spend even more money than they already were - his method involved subtly promoting club-created merchandise and booking dates for club-sponsored events. She found it amazing how the guests always jumped at the chance to buy a calendar or purchase tickets for a dance party that was still six months away. “Availability is limited,” Kyouya would always offer smoothly. “It would be advantageous to get it while you still can… after all, you wouldn’t want to miss this opportunity, would you?” 

The girls always agree eagerly. Kyouya is, after all, very charming. 

Haruhi found Suoh Tamaki to be very charming, in a different way. She thinks he’s probably the closest thing to a Disney prince that she’s ever encountered. Even though his theatrics are often over-the-top, Haruhi finds him amusing to watch, and she learned quite a bit about hosting from observing him with his regular guests. If there is one thing to be said about Tamaki-senpai, it’s that he knows how to make a girl feel special. 

The week with the twins was business as usual, and Haruhi wonders how many gray hairs will pop up because of it. Spending all day in class with the Hitachiins in addition to a few hours every day at the Host Club was exhausting. But like with Kyouya and Tamaki, there was something to learn from the experience. The twins use their relationship to their advantage when entertaining guests, and while it doesn’t surprise Haruhi how many young ladies are into the whole ‘forbidden brotherly love’ schtick that the twins play heavily on, it’s still fun to watch. 

She wonders what she’ll learn this week. 

*

“So,” he starts quietly, in that deep, rich voice of his. “Do you like it?”

The question catches her a bit off-guard; Haruhi has spent the better part of the last fifteen minutes watching in amusement as Honey-senpai has jumped from one lap to another. The girls love it, and they’ve all devoted their undivided attention to seeing who can make him giggle the most. 

She assumes his question is referring to her time thus far in the Host Club, and she answers accordingly. “I do,” she responds truthfully. “To be honest, I was worried that I wouldn’t like it, or that I wouldn’t fit in.” She turns to face him, smiling a little. “My fears about that were put to rest on the very first day,” she continues with a light chuckle. “I don’t know how you all do it, but I feel oddly comfortable here. Probably more comfortable here than any other club I’ve been in.”

“Mm.” It’s all he says, but he’s smiling a little, and it makes Haruhi feel a little bolder. 

“T--Mori-senpai,” she corrects herself before his given name can slip out.  _ He’s Mori-senpai to me, _ she reminds herself,  _ even though I’m calling him Takashi in my head all the time. _ “Mori-senpai, how did you end up joining the club?”

He looks at her, faint surprise in his features. “Oh, I thought Kyouya might have told you. Mitsukuni and I came as a set. He joined first, and I followed.” He pauses. “It was something to do, I guess.”

She chews on this thoughtfully for a while, turning her gaze back to Honey-senpai and the group of girls in front of them. “I feel kind of useless here,” she laughs quietly. “He’s doing all the work.”

“Let him,” Takashi chuckles. “He enjoys it. And there’ll be a different group of girls tomorrow. We can pick up the slack then.”

_ Tomorrow, _ she thinks with a smile. 

*

_ I’m going to be late. I’m going to be late. I’m going to be late. _

The thought is running through Haruhi’s head like a mantra as she all but sprints through the courtyard. Music room three is all the way across campus, and she’s already ten minutes behind where she should be if she’s going to make it to the club on time. As she passes by a pillar partially shrouded by rose bushes, she spots a familiar figure. 

It stops her in her tracks. 

“Mori-senpai?” She mutters to herself, wondering if she’s seeing things. She backtracks a few steps, and sure enough, it’s him. 

He’s standing just underneath the shade of an arch, and though he’s partly turned away from her, Haruhi knows without a doubt that it’s him.  _ I’d recognize those shoulders anywhere, _ she thinks with a chuckle. She moves closer, and is about to call out to him when she realizes that he isn’t alone. There’s a girl with him, someone Haruhi has never seen before.

“You don’t have to give me an answer right away,” the girl is saying. “But will you promise me you’ll at least think about it?” She pauses for a moment. “I… I won’t interfere with your hosting, I promise. I just want to be with you.” 

_ A confession, _ Haruhi realizes with a start.  _ She’s confessing to him. I… I should go. I shouldn’t be listening to this. _ Hurriedly, she keeps moving in the direction of the club. It isn’t long, though, before she hears her name. 

“Fujioka-san.” That deep, rich, quiet voice. 

She turns quickly, hoping there’s no eavesdropping guilt showing on her face. “Mori-senpai,” she says, offering him a smile. She stops, waiting for him to catch up to her. With his long legs and quick stride, it doesn’t take long. “I think we’re late for club.” 

“Mm,” he murmurs in agreement. Haruhi notices that he slows his gait a bit to match her pace as they continue towards the music room. “How was your day?” He asks, after a moment. 

The question catches her off-guard. “Busy,” she responds. “The best kind of day.” She hesitates, thinking of the pretty young lady back at the rose bushes. “How was yours?”

He shrugs. “About the same.” He’s quiet for a moment, and then he speaks again. “Fujioka-san--”

“Just Haruhi is fine,” she interrupts him with a smile. “It sounds so formal for you to call me Fujioka-san.”

He turns to face her. “Haruhi,” he repeats softly, trying the name out. “Haruhi?” 

“Yes, just Haruhi,” she smiles again. “That sounds much better.”

“Haruhi,” he nods, facing forward again. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

A minute of silence goes by, and Haruhi wonders briefly if he’s changed his mind about whatever he was planning to ask. Just when she opens her mouth to ask him what’s up, he speaks. 

“Haruhi, do you think it would bother you if someone you were going out with was in a host club?” 

She thinks again of the young lady at the rose bushes. “I guess it depends,” she starts slowly. 

“On what?” He’s looking at her now, with interest, and Haruhi wonders why it makes her feel so sad. 

“On how much he liked me,” she answers quietly. “I mean, I guess it would be hard sometimes to think about the guy I’m going out with spending so much time with so many other girls. But if I knew that he really liked me,” she goes on, “I’d be more inclined to trust that at the end of the day, I was the one he really wanted, and nothing would happen with any of those other girls.” 

He nods thoughtfully. “I see.”

She waits, thinking he might say something else. He doesn’t, though, and they continue in silence all the way to the music room. 


	4. Between Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Nevermind the fact that you just insulted me,” she retorts dryly. “You know that isn’t what I meant.”
> 
> His grin only widens. 
> 
> “And what is your type, anyway?”
> 
> Kyouya waves a hand dismissively. “A discussion for another time, perhaps.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kyouya and Haruhi are total bffs. That's the hill I've chosen to die on.

“You seem distracted,” Kyouya remarks casually. 

Haruhi is in the middle of arranging one of the more delicate tea sets onto a tray. “Probably because I’m concentrating very hard on trying not to break this fine china,” she murmurs. 

This earns her a laugh. “Fair enough.” He pauses, waiting for her to finish before he speaks again. “Is there something troubling you?”

“Of course not,” she replies lightly, flashing him a smile. “Why would there be?”

He studies her for a moment. “It just seems like there’s something on your mind,” he finally says. “But if you don’t want to talk about it, I understand.”

For a split second, Haruhi considers telling him. _He’ll think I’m silly._ She thinks better of it and flashes him another smile. “It’s nothing, really.”

Kyouya simply nods once before walking away. 

_It_ is _silly. Why should I be concerned about something that’s none of my business?_ She carefully adds the teapot to the tray and lifts it into her arms. _Mori-senpai wasn’t asking me for advice; he just wanted a girl’s opinion._

_I wonder if he’s going to tell her yes._

Her breath catches slightly in her throat at the thought. 

*

“Honey-senpai,” Haruhi starts, her voice barely louder than a whisper. “Can I ask you something?”

Honey turns his head, and Haruhi is met with those huge eyes. “Anything, Haru-chan. You can ask me anything!”

“Do you think I’d look silly in one of those uniform dresses?”

If Haninozuka Mitsukuni is at all surprised by her question, his face doesn’t show it. He thinks for a moment, then inclines his head to the side and studies her. “Not silly,” he starts slowly. “You wouldn’t look silly. I think you would look really cute in it, but it isn’t your style.” He pauses, flashing her one of his patented Honey-senpai smiles. “Are you thinking about getting one?”

She can’t seem to get the image of the girl at the rose bushes out of her head. “I… I don’t know,” she replies candidly. “I was just wondering what I might look like.” 

Honey-senpai is still studying her carefully. “I wonder what brought this on, Haru-chan.” 

It isn’t a question, Haruhi knows, but he’s leaving it open in case she wants to answer it. 

She says nothing, choosing instead to offer him a noncommittal smile and a shrug. 

*

_When did I become so keenly aware of his presence?_ Haruhi wonders, as she collects a tray full of dirty tea cups and saucers. The thought makes her pause, and it’s followed immediately by another: _I’ve always been keenly aware of him. Since the day I met him, I’ve always been hyper aware of his presence_. 

Her thoughts are interrupted by Kyouya’s voice. “And there she goes again, drifting off into outer space,” he says. Even after only a month of having known him, Haruhi can pick up on when he’s teasing her. 

“Didn’t you know?” She flashes him a smile. “Outer space is where I live.”

Her smile is returned. “A hundred yen for your thoughts?”

She considers rebuffing his offer again, but hesitates. “Well,” she starts, “that depends.”

“On what?”

“On how good you are at keeping a poker face.” 

*

**_Hey, I won’t be home for dinner._ **

**_Having dinner at a friend’s house._ **

**_You’re late to the party._ **

**_Kyo-kun already told me._ **

**_You call him Kyo-kun???? Since when?_ **

**_Again, you’re late to the party. :)_ **

**_Have fun and bring me leftovers._ **

-_-

**_I love you, sweet daughter of mine!_ **

**_< 3 <3 _ **

-______-

  
  


*

“My father calls you ‘Kyo-kun’,” Haruhi offers, as casually as she can over a piece of grilled Amberjack. The food at Kyouya’s is unsurprisingly delicious, and Haruhi basks in the experience of being able to enjoy homemade food that she didn’t have to cook herself. 

“Mmhm,” Kyouya nods, around a sip of tea. “He and I talk quite frequently. Not always about you,” he adds, at Haruhi’s look of horror. “But that’s not what you came here to discuss, is it?”

“I… no, it isn’t,” Haruhi agrees. “I have a confession to make.”

The grin that slowly spreads across Kyouya’s face is uncharacteristically mischievous, and it isn’t until he speaks again that Haruhi realizes her mistake. “Haruhi,” he starts smoothly, his voice like melted butter, “I’m so flattered, but you’re not my type.”

“Nevermind the fact that you just insulted me,” she retorts dryly. “You know that isn’t what I meant.”

His grin only widens. 

“And what _is_ your type, anyway?”

Kyouya waves a hand dismissively. “A discussion for another time, perhaps.”

“Fine, but I’m not letting you off the hook,” she grumbles. “I witnessed someone at Ouran getting confessed to,” she continues, “and it… well, it’s made me feel some strange things.”

The upperclassman chews over this thoughtfully. “What kind of strange feelings?” 

The word _jealousy_ is on the tip of her tongue, but she bites it back. _Think carefully,_ the little voice inside her head cautions. “I’m… still trying to figure that out,” she starts slowly. “The person that got confessed to… I haven’t known him for very long. But I felt like I was starting to…” She trails off. “I think I like him.”

“Hm,” he murmurs. “What do you like about him?” 

“Oh,” she exclaims softly, internally cursing the flush she can feel creeping up her cheeks at the unexpected question. “He’s smart. Not just school smart, but he knows a lot of things. And he’s not obnoxious about it,” she adds. “He doesn’t make you feel bad for not knowing something that he knows. He’s kind, and funny in a quiet sort of way. It’s obvious that he cares a lot about his friends, and he’s got a steadying sort of presence that makes me feel safe whenever I’m around him. Even the way he treats the guests---” She claps a hand over her mouth. 

Kyouya just looks at her. 

“Kyouya-senpai…” 

“I think,” he starts slowly, “that maybe you were under the impression that I didn’t already know.” He smiles at her, not unkindly. “I wasn’t going to ask who it was unless you offered to tell me.” 

She shakes her head, puzzled. “But how did you know?”

“I know everything,” he shrugs nonchalantly. 

Haruhi scoffs. “That’s up for debate, but you _do_ seem to have an uncanny amount of uncomfortable personal knowledge about people.”

He smiles again. “Your eyes go soft when you look at him,” he says. “They go soft and follow him around the room. When he speaks to you, your body language changes. I’m sure it’s an unconscious thing, but you lean into him and pay rapt attention to whatever he’s saying. You’re not the flirting type, Haruhi, but if a person looks hard enough, the signs that you like him are there.”

She considers this. “Do… do you think he knows?”

“Mori-senpai is incredibly hard to read, even for me,” Kyouya answers thoughtfully. “It’s hard to tell what he’s thinking.” He pauses. “I probably shouldn’t be telling you this, but the girl that confessed to him is a second year. Her name is Nakamura Azumi. She’s known him since middle school, and she comes from a very wealthy, well-respected family.” 

“I get it, she’s a much better match for him than me,” Haruhi mumbles. 

“That’s not what I meant,” Kyouya rebuts patiently. “And not at all where I was going with that.” He chuckles. “I don’t know if he’s picked up on the fact that you have feelings for him. And I certainly don’t know whether or not he intends to accept Nakamura-san’s feelings. What I do know is that Morinozuka Takashi never does anything hastily. He’s not the type of person to rush into anything.”

“So then… what should I do?”

“Try to get his attention,” Kyouya offers simply.

“I don’t think I can do that,” Haruhi mumbles, feigning a shudder. “Like you said, I’m not the flirting type.”

“Not that you have to be in order to get his attention,” Kyouya muses. “But the other option is to confess to him outright.”

“I can do that even less than flirting.”

“Then it has to be flirting,” Kyouya chuckles. “Would you like my help?”

She hesitates. “Is your help conditional?”

“Under normal circumstances, it would be,” he answers, without missing a beat. “But because I’m fond of you, we’ll call this a favor.” 

She glares at him suspiciously. “I don’t believe you.”

“Would you rather it be conditional?” He asks, his tone maddeningly reasonable. “If so, I can arrange for that.”

“No,” Haruhi answers quickly. “No, I’ll take the favor.” 

The grin on his face is diabolical, and Haruhi wonders what she’s gotten herself into. 


	5. Circle of Feelings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Yes," Kyouya answers her unspoken question with a smile. "Occasionally Honey-senpai and Mori-senpai entertain their guests separately. I thought it might be a nice change of pace if Honey had his group of guests all to himself, and you paired up with Mori-senpai."
> 
> All she can do is blink at him stupidly.

Haruhi is dreaming.

*

_ She’s surrounded by them, a field of blue rose bushes. It makes her laugh, these unnaturally-colored flowers. “Blue roses don’t exist in real life,” she laughs, as she leans over to pluck one from its home. “They’re just a figment of my imagination.” She lifts the flower to her nose to take in its scent.  _

_ It smells like Takashi’s cologne.  _

_ “Are these your roses, Mori-senpai?” She murmurs the question, and it is only then that she realizes she’s clad from throat to ankle in yellow taffeta. Despite its cheerful color, the fabric makes her feel sad. “It’s hideous!” She shouts it into the field of rose bushes. “It makes me look like a banana…” _

_ “They symbolize loyalty.”  _

_ The voice is coming from behind her. She knows that voice: it’s deep, rich, and quiet, and it is awfully close to her ear.  _

_ Haruhi spins quickly, but there’s no one behind her. “Mori-senpai?” She calls out into the empty field. “Mori-senpai, where’d you go?” _

Takashi, _ the wind tells her softly.  _ You call him Takashi. __

_ “He won’t let me,” Haruhi whispers. “He won’t let me…” _

*

It’s not quite dawn when she opens her eyes, but the birds are chirping and there is the ghost of something half-forgotten in her mind. “Huh…?” She sits up slowly, rubbing her eyes. “I was dreaming,” she whispers into the darkness of her room. “I was dreaming about something, but I can’t remember…” 

The clock reads 3:45 am. “Too early to be awake,” she scolds herself groggily. There’s a thought at the tip of her subconscious, but before it can fully form itself, she has drifted off again. 

*

“A yukata?” Haruhi eyes the fabric draped across Kyouya’s arm dubiously. “You want me to put on a yukata?”

“Our theme today is ‘Garden Tea Party.’ Tamaki, the twins, and I will all be dressed as wait staff. You, Honey-senpai, and Mori-senpai will be dressed in the yukatas.”

Haruhi looks at him questioningly.

“Yes,” Kyouya answers her unspoken question with a smile. “Occasionally Honey-senpai and Mori-senpai entertain their guests separately. I thought it might be a nice change of pace if Honey had his group of guests all to himself, and you paired up with Mori-senpai.”

All she can do is blink at him stupidly. 

“So go on,” Kyouya continues. “Mori-senpai is already getting dressed and will wait for you to accompany him to the courtyard to greet your guests.” He thrusts the material into her arms. “Oh, and Haruhi?” 

“Huh?”

“Our Morinozuka-san is surprisingly quite skilled with yukata obis,” Kyouya starts, flashing her an innocent smile. “Should you need the assistance, he’s only one room away and will hear you if you call for him.” 

*

She’s in the middle of wrestling with one of the aforementioned obis when the soft knock on her dressing room door startles her. “Yes?” She calls, stilling her movements. 

“Kyouya asked me to see if you needed any help with your obi.” His voice is coming through the door muffled, but his words are unmistakable. It doesn’t take long for the meaning of them to sink in, and Haruhi tries not to panic. 

“I…”  _ Calm yourself. _ She takes a deep breath. “I was going to tell you no, I didn’t need help,” she laughs sheepishly, “but I’ve been fighting with this material for the better part of ten minutes, and I think the material is winning.” 

A pause. Then, “Is it alright if I come in?” 

She doesn’t answer. She isn’t sure whether she’d be able to keep her voice steady. 

Instead, she unlocks the door and pulls it open. 

The primary color of his yukata is dark green, and in the few seconds that he stands there in front of her, she has time to marvel at how well the shade compliments his dark gray eyes. He’s looking down at her solemnly, and the angle makes her notice how long his lashes are. For all the time that Haruhi has spent stealing furtive glances at him from a distance, it is rare for her to be able to gaze at him full on in such close proximity. 

_ He’s beautiful. _ The thought comes to her unbidden, and she wonders if the slight warmth in her cheeks is visible. 

She’s been holding the wide swath of material in her arms, and he reaches out and gently takes it from her. “Oh, right,” she chuckles. “Thank you.”

“No problem,” he murmurs. Material in hand, he leans down to wrap it around her waist, and Haruhi catches the faintest hint of his cologne. 

_ Blue roses. _ The thought rolls itself across the front of her brain like a marquee, and she inhales sharply. 

“Sorry,” he says, “is it too tight?”

“No,” Haruhi manages. “It’s… fine.” 

He raises his head to look at her, and those dark gray eyes and long, pretty lashes are closer than they’ve ever been. “Are you sure?” He asks softly, his eyes searching hers. 

She nods. She doesn’t trust herself to speak. 

He looks at her for a moment longer before dropping his head back down to continue wrapping her obi. For a split second more, his head is within reach of her hands, and she has to bite her lip hard to resist the urge to gently run her fingers through his hair. The moment passes, though, and he moves around behind her to put the finishing touches on her bow. 

“All done,” he says, and the words are accompanied by the slight pressure of his palm on her head.  _ He touches my hair, _ she thinks to herself.  _ Why can’t I touch his? _

_ You can, _ a little voice whispers.  _ You could have. But you missed your chance. _

“Ready?” He’s smiling down at her in that gentle way of his, and Haruhi wonders if Kyouya has somehow found a way to reduce the amount of oxygen in her dressing room. 

She’ll have to ask him about it later. Right now, she has a job to do. 

“I’m ready,” she nods, pushing all thoughts of oxygen shortages out of her head. “Let’s go entertain some guests.” 

*

Mori doesn’t talk much. 

He knows it’s what’s expected of him; it’s part of his charm as the taciturn, mysterious club member, and the thing he’s famous for among host club guests. 

Sometimes, though, he wishes it weren’t. 

Haruhi, on the other hand, is a natural; she has a knack for managing to stay animated no matter what the conversation is about, and the way she switches from subject to subject while keeping the guests entertained and comfortable is part of her charm. 

He watches her now, as she interacts with their little group. They’ve been given all first years, many of whom Mori doesn’t know, but Haruhi is familiar with the ones she shares classes with. They fuss over Haruhi’s yukata and fawn over the flowers in her hair; since she joined the host club, she’s been letting her hair grow out, and the intricate way she’s pinned it up paired with the flowers makes her look more delicate and feminine than usual. 

“Two cubes, right?” 

The words seem to be directed at him, and it shakes him out of his thoughts. Haruhi is smiling up at him sweetly, a glass dish of sugar cubes in her hand. 

“Mm, thanks,” he assents, and she drops two of the cubes into his cup of tea before turning back to the conversation. 

Haruhi is different, he thinks, from the other Ouran girls. More grounded, less concerned with superficial, frivolous things… unafraid to be herself and stay true to the things that make her happy. He wonders if the difference is her upbringing, or if those things were a part of her when she was born. 

Someday, he’d like to be able to ask her. 

*

“What an artfully tied obi,” Kyouya murmurs in a singsong voice. “What  _ skillful _ hands our Morinozuka-san has.”

“Shut up,” Haruhi hisses, her face heating up. “You told him to come to me, didn’t you?”

Kyouya puts on his innocent eyes. “Of course not. I didn’t  _ tell _ him anything. I don’t give my senpai orders.”

She scoffs.

“I merely asked him if he wouldn’t mind seeing if you needed help with your obi,” Kyouya shrugs. “After all, here at the Host Club, time is money, and there’s no sense in wasting time on a costume when you have help at your disposal… right?” He smiles sweetly at her. 

“You’re full of it.”

The smile is still firmly in place as he relieves her of her tray. “And how was your afternoon?” 

She feels like her head will explode if her face gets any hotter. “It was nice,” she answers shortly. 

“That’s it?” Kyouya’s eyebrows go up. “Just ‘nice’? Surely you can come up with something less bland than that.”

She glances around furtively to make sure no one is listening. “What do you want me to say? Yes, Kyouya, I’m smitten, and I don’t know what I have to give up to repay you for the chance to spend an entire afternoon with him. Are you happy?”

He’s flashing her that sweet smile again. “Ecstatic. I’m glad to know it went well.” He pauses. “That means you should have no trouble doing it again tomorrow, yes?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mori was always my favorite, and I was absolutely gutted when he and Haruhi didn't end up together (yes, it's been 14 years and I'm still not over it). I always thought they'd make a good match, and I'm trying my best to stay true to their canon personalities while still making them have subtle but strong chemistry. If you're reading this, I assume it's because they're your pairing, so I hope I'm doing justice to it! :)


	6. To You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You know," Haruhi starts with a laugh, "for someone who doesn't talk much, you certainly have a way with the words you do say."
> 
> Mori turns to her in surprise. "Me?"
> 
> "Yes, you." She looks up at him with a teasing smile. "You were the star of the show today."

**_Azumi-chan,_ **

**_For weeks now, I’ve been thinking about the day you confessed to me. It’s likely you think I’d forgotten or that I’ve just been neglectful, but neither of those things are true. Though I may not be skilled at the art of conversation, I do aim to make sure that I’m able to express my thoughts in a way they’ll be understood._ **

**_I think you’re a wonderful person. It’s never easy to tell someone how you feel, and you always run a fifty percent chance of not being able to be with the one you feel strongly about. For you to trust me with your heart and your honest feelings is no small matter, and I can say candidly that I appreciate you for it._ **

**_I’m sorry that I can’t return your affection. I wish I could, but I can’t, and I can’t promise you that I will be able to with the passage of time. You’re kind, beautiful, and smart, and your value and who you are as a person have nothing to do with the reason I can’t accept your feelings. I wanted you to know that… I wanted you to understand that I didn’t make my decision hastily or with little regard for how you might feel once you knew I wasn’t able to be with you._ **

**_I understand completely if, after this, you feel like you want nothing to do with me. As much as I would enjoy being friends with you still, I want you to understand that your feelings are what’s important, and if you feel our friendship should end here, I’ll accept and respect that decision._ **

**_-Takashi_ **

*

He waits until she is done reading. It would be easier on him to walk away and let her read it without having to see her reaction after, but Mori has never been that sort of person. He watches as her eyes rove over the single page, watches as understanding dawns on her face, watches the different emotions that find themselves there: realization, surprise, disappointment. When the tears make her eyes shine, he reaches out to put a hand on her shoulder. 

“I’m sorry,” he offers sincerely. 

“You thought about it,” she starts helplessly. “I have to thank you for that.”

“You’re upset with me,” he surmises. It makes him feel sad. 

“I’m not,” Azumi laughs tearfully. “I had a feeling your answer would be no. But…” She trails off and looks away from him briefly. “But I couldn’t help hoping that it would be yes.” She turns her head back to face him. “I’ve adored you for years now, and there’s a part of me that kept saying if you felt the same way, you might’ve noticed and said something.” 

He chews on his lower lip thoughtfully. “I suspected it was that way,” he confesses, “but I didn’t think it would be fair to mention it if I didn’t feel the same.” 

“You’re kind, Takashi,” she says softly, reaching up to run a hand over his face. “I wish they were all like you.”

He offers her a smile. “But wouldn’t that be boring?”

She’s laughing a little as she walks away. 

*

She has been watching him, as she does often, stealing furtive glances here and there when he isn’t looking her way. She’s become accustomed to his countenance - that quiet, solemn demeanor that he’s known for - but this mood is something different altogether. 

The theme today is ‘An Arabian Palace,’ and Kyouya has not forgotten his promise to once again pair Haruhi with Mori. While Haruhi is clothed from head to toe in the garb of an Arabian spice trader, Kyouya chose to make the upperclassman into a warrior. 

“Why?” It’s all she asks, but somehow Kyouya seems to know what the one-word question means. 

“Haruhi,” he starts patiently, “you should know by now that a lot of time and effort goes into researching these costumes and making them as true to life as possible. What Mori-senpai is wearing is exactly what an Arabian warrior should be wearing. Or not wearing,” he adds thoughtfully, the corners of his mouth twitching into a smile. “In all the research I found, there was nothing about warriors wearing shirts into battle.”

“I thought you said you’d help me,” she hisses. 

He stares at her blankly. “I  _ am _ helping you. Two days alone with the object of your affections. If that isn’t help, I don’t know what is!”

“What you’re doing,” Haruhi starts, glaring at him as she snatches up a tea set, “is helping me have a heart attack!” She stalks off before he can answer. 

Eventually, the initial shock of being in such close proximity to a shirtless Takashi dulls a little, and Haruhi is able to relax into the rhythm of entertaining their guests. Not that she has anything to worry about anyway - if she had been concerned before about being caught ogling her senpai, those concerns have flown out of the window in the face of the group of guests they’re entertaining today fawning over him. 

“Mori-kun,” a pretty third year with glasses coos, boldly reaching out and running a finger over his shoulder, “how do you stay in such good shape? Is it the kendou?” 

He raises one eyebrow and flashes her an enigmatic smile. “You would force me to spill my secrets?” 

Haruhi watches somewhat absently as the two banter back and forth.  _ He really is good at flirting, _ she marvels,  _ even though there’s something different about him today… something almost sad. _

*

“You know,” Haruhi starts with a laugh, “for someone who doesn’t talk much, you certainly have a way with the words you do say.”

Mori turns to her in surprise. “Me?”

“Yes, you.” She looks up at him with a teasing smile. “You were the star of the show today.”

He returns her smile, effortlessly taking a tray full of china from her arms. “Well, you did all the work yesterday. I was just pulling my weight.” 

They work in silence for a few minutes, and Haruhi has an internal debate over whether or not to ask him if everything is okay. She steals a glance at him. 

He seems to be deep in thought. It’s on the tip of her tongue to ask him when she’s propelled forward by a human bullet. 

“Haru-channnnn!” She turns at the sound of the familiar voice to see Honey-senpai and Usa-chan both smiling up at her. 

“Honey-senpai,” Haruhi starts fondly, “you look adorable in your little yukata.”

“Thank you Haru-chan,” he beams. “Yukatas are fun, aren’t they?” 

“Mm, they can be. But only if you have someone willing to help you with your obi like I did,” she adds with a laugh. 

The tiny upperclassman looks between Haruhi and Takashi and smiles. Haruhi can almost see the light bulb above his head going off, and she has an inkling of what’s coming before he even opens his mouth. “Haru-chan,” he starts, flashing her an adorable grin, “would you like to join Takashi and I for dinner?”


	7. Poetry and Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Oh," she exclaims softly, laughing a little, "there's a follow-up question I haven't been asked yet." She pauses for a moment to think. "Hmm... if I had to pick one thing I like the best," she continues thoughtfully, "I'd say it's probably getting to know all the other hosts better."
> 
> Honey-senpai flashes her a smile. "Who's your favorite?" He asks, without missing a beat.

Dinner is, as she should have guessed, at a sushi restaurant. 

She can’t help but laugh as the three of them follow the host to a booth in the upscale restaurant. The place is in a part of town Haruhi has only ever passed by; the shops and restaurants here are much fancier than they are nearer to home. 

“I hope this is okay, Haru-chan,” Honey-senpai starts cheerfully as they arrange themselves in the booth. The two upperclassmen sit side by side, leaving the other side of the booth for her. “I know you like sushi, and I’ve been wanting to bring you here. It’s the best around!”

“It’s so… fancy in here,” she laughs a little awkwardly. “I feel underdressed.”

“We come in our uniforms all the time,” Mori-senpai offers. “It looks fancy, but there’s no dress code.”

His words reassure her, and she relaxes a bit. The fact that the two frequent the restaurant is evident in how well they know the menu selection, and Haruhi is grateful for their help as they walk her through their favorites and suggest things she might like. 

“So how are you liking the Club?” Honey-senpai asks, after their orders have been placed. 

It’s a question she’s been asked several times in the weeks since she joined, and her answer is always the same. “I like it,” she replies candidly with a smile. “I didn’t think I would, but I do.”

“What do you like best?” 

“Oh,” she exclaims softly, laughing a little, “there’s a follow-up question I haven’t been asked yet.” She pauses for a moment to think. “Hmm… if I had to pick one thing I like the best,” she continues thoughtfully, “I’d say it’s probably getting to know all the other hosts better.” 

Honey-senpai flashes her a smile. “Who’s your favorite?” He asks, without missing a beat. 

The question catches her off-guard, and reflexively she can feel her lips moving to form the name. “T-ta…” She claps her mouth shut to stop the word from escaping.

“Ohhhh, Tama-chan is everyone’s favorite,” Honey-senpai pouts, and it takes Haruhi a moment to realize that he’s misunderstood the name she was about to say. 

She glances at Mori. The expression on his face is, as always, unreadable, and Haruhi wonders if she should correct Honey-senpai’s assumption or let him run with it. Before she can say anything, their table is raided by servers carrying plates heaped with beautifully arranged sashimi. 

“Let’s eat!” Honey exclaims gleefully, and all conversation is momentarily forgotten.

*

“Please, at least let me take care of the tip,” Haruhi tries.

Honey shakes his head emphatically. “This is our treat! Takashi and I have been planning this for a long time as a ‘welcome to the Club’ thing. We’re sorry it took so long!”

Mori nods his head in agreement, offering her a smile. 

She considers trying to argue with them, but it’s obvious by the looks on their faces that any attempt to get them to change their minds would prove futile. Heaving a defeated sigh, she puts her wallet back in her bag and shrugs. “Well… thank you for the treat,” she starts with a smile. “I really enjoyed it.”

“Anytime,” Honey beams, grabbing her hand. “Come on, we’ll drop you home!”

*

“Takashi,” Honey starts quietly, once they’ve watched Haruhi safely enter her apartment and lock the door behind her, “for people who don’t know you as well as I do, you’re incredibly hard to read.”

Mori looks at his cousin quizzically. 

“She’ll never know if you don’t say anything,” the smaller boy says. 

He absorbs this. “She likes Tamaki.”

Honey inclines his head to the side, studying his cousin. “But you like her… a lot, right?”

Mori nods. 

“So fight for her,” Honey suggests. 

His eyebrows knit together in uncharacteristic frustration. “You and I both know that I would never win that fight.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” Honey replies thoughtfully, his gaze turned toward the window. “I think if you really tried, you might be surprised at the outcome.” 

He doesn’t respond, and it makes Honey turn his head to look at him. 

“I think,” Mori starts slowly, his voice low and quiet, “that it’s better to leave things as they are.”

Honey opens his mouth to reply, then thinks better of it. 

They spend the rest of the drive in silence. 

*

**_How was dinner?_ **

**_It was fine, I guess…_ **

**_You guess? Did you enjoy yourself?_ **

**_Yeah._ **

**_I might’ve almost slipped up about something._ **

**_…?_ **

**_Well… Honey-senpai asked me if_ **

**_I have a favorite host club member._ **

**_I almost spilled the beans._ **

**_Gasp._ **

**_Weird, I can almost hear your sarcasm._ **

**_So what happened?_ **

**_Mori-senpai’s given name was partway_ **

**_out of my mouth when I stopped myself._ **

**_Subsequently, they both assumed I’d been_ **

**_about to say Tamaki-senpai’s name._ **

**_GASP._ **

**_Kyouya, stop!_ **

**_I’m being serious here._ **

**_They assumed… and you let them?_ **

**_What was I supposed to do?_ **

**_...tell the truth, maybe?_ **

**_You’re out of your mind._ **

  
  


She’s barely pressed ‘send’ when her phone begins ringing. 

“I grew tired of texting,” Kyouya explains when she picks up the phone. “What’s so crazy about the idea of telling Mori-senpai how you feel?”

“Do you even hear the words that you’re saying?”

She can almost hear him shrug. “Again, I ask: what’s so crazy about it? You already know he turned down Nakamura-san’s confession. That means he isn’t interested in her.”

“It doesn’t mean he’s interested in me,” Haruhi rebuts. 

“Nor does it mean he isn’t,” Kyouya fires back, smugness in his voice. 

_ “Kyouya,” _ she huffs, exasperated.

_ “Haruhi.” _

Annoyed, she falls silent. 

“I can practically hear you sulking,” Kyouya laughs after a moment. “Okay, then, Haruhi. What would you like to do about this little problem you have?”

“I don’t have a problem,” she snaps. 

“Oh, but you do,” Kyouya counters. “You like Mori-senpai, but you won’t tell him. You’ve been spending more time around him in an attempt to make him notice you, but all it seems to have done is make you like him more. And yet, you’re still unwilling to confess. How much longer are you going to put yourself through this?”

“Maybe the problem is that I’m not cute enough,” Haruhi muses.

“You’re plenty cute, and everyone knows it,” Kyouya replies. “But I’ll admit that playing up your cuteness probably wouldn’t hurt.”

She waits for him to continue. When he doesn’t, she speaks again. “You have an idea, don’t you?”

“Maybe,” he starts thoughtfully. “It would take some work, but I think it might achieve the effect you need to get his attention in the way you’re thinking of.” 

“Alright then… spill it.”

“Not now,” Kyouya tells her. “Let’s talk about it tomorrow, when it’s more like a fully formed idea and less of an inkling.” He pauses. “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself at dinner, Haruhi. I really am.”

“Your attempt to be sincere is freaking me out, so I’m hanging up now.”

He’s still laughing when she disconnects.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (It just tickles me to pieces to think of Haruhi and Kyouya texting each other like BFFs.)


	8. Delightful Me, Delightful You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You know," Haruhi starts, "it infuriates me that you and my father have so many conversations about me without me knowing."
> 
> Kyouya just shrugs. "Hitachiin-San sent some things over for you from her shop," he tells her. "I gave her your measurements, but she wants you to try everything on just to make sure they fit properly."
> 
> She narrows her eyes. "What kind of things?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry it took so long to get this chapter out. I had such a hard time with it, and I'm still not 100% pleased with the way it turned out. I hope you enjoy it nonetheless. Thanks for continuing to read and comment - it means the world to me.

“A beach trip?” Haruhi blinks up at Kyouya, confusion written all over her face. “What do you mean?”

“I mean exactly what I said,” Kyouya responds. “A beach trip.” He peers at her over the top of his glasses. “I’ve already spoken to Ranka-san. He doesn’t have any problems with you taking a weekend trip. His conditions were that we make sure you have your own room and separate bathroom in the beach house, and that you not neglect whatever school work assignments you’re given.”

“You know,” Haruhi starts, “it infuriates me that you and my father have so many conversations about me without me knowing.”

Kyouya just shrugs. “Hitachiin-San sent some things over for you from her shop,” he tells her. “I gave her your measurements, but she wants you to try everything on just to make sure that they fit properly.”

She narrows her eyes. “What kind of things?” 

“Why don’t you go and take a look for yourself?” Kyouya suggests. “They’ve been put in your dressing room.”

*

“So many ruffles,” Haruhi mumbles, her eyes perusing the items of clothing hanging on the racks in her dressing room. “Why are there so many ruffles?”

“Mainly because she thought you would look cute in ruffled, off-the-shoulders things,” Hikaru starts nonchalantly, “but also to disguise that you’re somewhat lacking in the chest area.”

“You’re rude,” Haruhi mumbles. 

He shrugs. “I’m only repeating what she told me.”

_Still rude,_ Haruhi thinks. “And what is this?” She asks, her eye falling on a pile of bits of fabric in various colors.

“Swimsuits,” Kaoru answers. At her scandalized look, he laughs. “Don’t worry, there’s nothing indecent in there,” he reassures her. “Some of them are bikinis, but there are some really nice ones in there, too.”

“Somehow, you telling me that doesn’t make me feel better,” she mumbles. 

“You have to try everything on and make sure it fits,” Hikaru explains. “If not, send it back and she’ll fix it.”

She looks at him in surprise. “Why is she going to all this trouble for me?”

The smirk on his face tells her that something rude is coming. Before he can open his mouth, though, Kaoru speaks up. “She said that she thinks you’re super cute and that the clothes you wear cover it all up.” 

She doesn’t know what to say to that. “Thank you,” she says simply, and her gratitude is genuine. “I’ll try them all on now.”

*

The beach house is lovely, as she expected. She knows it belongs to Kyouya’s family, but it seems the other hosts have all visited it at one time or another. They each have a wing of the house to themselves, and Haruhi marvels at the spaciousness of the estate. 

“This is amazing,” she breathes, flopping down onto the king-sized bed in the room she’s been given. The bathroom stands off to the side of the room, and she can see through the door that it’s just as huge as she imagined it would be. “I don’t even have to leave the bedroom to take a bath.”

“Well?” Kyouya prompts her, standing in the doorway. “Is it alright? Can I tell Ranka-san that you approve?”

“It’s more than alright,” Haruhi answers, turning her head to look at him but not moving from her comfortable spot. “I may just spend the whole weekend here,” she adds, indicating the bed. 

“That won’t do,” Kyouya murmurs. “Dinner is in an hour. I assume you packed some of the dresses the twins’ mother sent for you?”

She nods, sitting up. 

“Pick a nice one,” he suggests. “You’ll be sitting between Honey-senpai and Mori-senpai.”

“Between them?” She raises an eyebrow. “You’re really laying it on thick.”

“Actually,” Kyouya starts, “it was Honey-senpai’s suggestion.”

“What?” She shoots upright. “What do you mean by that?”

“One hour,” is all Kyouya will say as he walks away. 

*

For all of the self-control that Mori has learned through years of rigorous martial arts training, he’s powerless to stifle his sharp inhale when Haruhi enters the dining room. 

There’s nothing necessarily spectacular about the dress she’s wearing, he notes. He’s seen dozens of dresses in the same style, all worn by Ouran girls who shop at upscale boutiques quite like the one Hikaru and Kaoru’s mother owns. The ruffles and off-the-shoulder style give it a soft, feminine look that he isn’t used to seeing Haruhi in. It’s been made out of a pretty pale yellow fabric, and Mori wonders if he’s ever seen her wear anything in that shade before. 

_No,_ he thinks to himself. _No, I would have remembered if she had_. 

She makes her way over to the table amongst compliments from the other hosts. Mori watches, silently, the interaction between her and Tamaki, wondering if the two faint pink spots high up on her cheeks have anything to do with the host club’s president’s flirtatious words.

He busies himself with pulling her chair out for her. When she murmurs her thanks, he allows himself the pleasure of a smile. She hesitates for a moment before sitting down, almost as though she’s waiting for something, but he doesn’t raise his eyes to meet hers, and after the moment passes, she settles herself into her place at the table. 

*

Unsurprisingly, the food is delicious, and the company is even better. The slight awkwardness that Haruhi felt upon first sitting between her two upperclassmen quickly melts into comfortable, casual conversation that reminds her of their time spent together during club hours. 

Honey-senpai is bubbly and talkative, as usual, and Mori-senpai is quiet but pleasant, choosing his words carefully as always. It’s almost like being spoon-fed, Haruhi thinks - waiting for those precious morsels of speech from him. They aren’t many, but each one is special in its own way. 

The thought makes her face flush, and it doesn’t go unnoticed. 

“What is it, Haru-chan?” Honey is looking at her curiously. “You look like you just remembered something nice.”

“Oh,” she starts softly, a little surprised at his vocal observation. “I… it’s nothing, really. I guess I was just thinking about how nice this is, being here with everyone at this beautiful house on the beach. I’m glad I decided to come.”

The tiny upperclassman gives her a brilliant smile. “We’re happy too… aren’t we, Takashi?”

The dark-haired boy nods, murmuring quietly in agreement. 

“And tomorrow will be even better,” Honey-senpai goes on, “because we can spend the whole day down at the beach!” He pauses, flashing Haruhi an innocent smile. “I hope you remembered to bring your bathing suit, Haru-chan!”

The mention of a bathing suit makes her groan inwardly. _Oh, right… that._ It wasn’t until she was unpacking her clothes in search of a dinner dress that she realized the simple, modest swimsuit she’d initially chosen had been swapped out with something far flashier and immediately recognized it as Ranka's doing.

**_Hey… you swapped my swimsuit out????_ **

**_I did. The one you chose was ugly._ **

**_It was practical! I don’t need a bathing suit with rhinestones on it!_ **

**_Besides, I wanted the other one because it was a one-piece._ **

**_Oops!_ **

She hadn’t bothered responding to that. “I brought one,” she directs her response to Honey-senpai. “We’ll see if I actually work up the nerve to put it on.”

“I’m sure you’ll look beautiful in it!”

She isn’t sure about that, but she supposes there’s only one way to find out.


	9. Sort Of

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He turns to her in surprise. "Is that how you see us? Just as rich people?"
> 
> For a moment, she worries that she might have offended him. She looks at him, but there is no anger in his face, only sincere curiosity.

She hates to admit it, but the swimsuit _is_ flattering. 

“It has to be the ruffles,” she murmurs to herself, turning this way and that to see how it looks from different angles in the full-length mirror. “I guess Hitachiin-San really does know what she’s doing.” 

The knock on her door interrupts her musings, and Haruhi quickly reaches for the cover-up that Ranka had so thoughtfully decided to throw in her bag when he switched out the swimsuits. “Yes?” She calls, wrapping the silken material around herself. 

“We’re all heading down to the beach.” Kyouya’s voice comes through the door muffled. “Are you going to join us, or will you be hiding out in your room all day?”

“Do you always have to be so acerbic?” She huffs, as she opens the door. 

He’s standing just on the other side of it, his mouth twisted in something that’s not quite a smirk. It’s mocking all the same, and it makes her huff again. 

“I’m never being purposefully acerbic,” he replies in answer to her question. “And my inquiry was a genuine one. We’ve been waiting for you a while now.”

Her face flushes in embarrassment. “You should’ve told me,” she murmurs, a little contritely. “I’m sorry.” Self-consciously, she wraps the silken robe more tightly over herself and grabs her flip flops. 

“You look fine,” Kyouya reassures her softly, as she follows him down the hallway. “The suit was a good choice.”

“It wasn’t _my_ choice,” she’s quick to tell him. 

She’s sure he must be thinking of a witty retort and braces herself for it, but it never comes. Instead, they continue the rest of the way to the front hall in silence, and Haruhi can feel her face flushing even more as their little procession is met with two sets of inquisitive eyes. 

“Haru-chan!” Honey-senpai is the first to speak, and he looks at her with warm, friendly eyes that make her breathe a little easier. “You look cute!” 

“You’re pretty cute yourself,” she answers, casting an amused glance at the inner tube around his waist. It’s bright pink, the exact same color as Usa-chan, and is printed with mini bunnies that look just like the plush one he’s carrying. “But aren’t you worried about Usa-chan getting wet?” 

“She won’t swim, silly,” Honey giggles. “Anyway, Tama-Chan and Hika-Chan and Kao-Chan went on to the beach. They said they’d meet us down there.”

“Well then,” Haruhi says brightly. “Shall we go?”

*****

The walk down to the beach isn’t a long one, but Haruhi finds herself slightly unnerved as Honey and Kyouya lag behind - she wonders if it’s on purpose - leaving her and Takashi to walk ahead of them. 

“Have you been to this beach before?” She asks, after they’ve been walking in silence for a few minutes. 

“Twice before,” he answers in that deep, quiet voice of his. “Kyouya usually invites us down in the summer.”

She absorbs this quietly. “I’ve never been to a private beach before. It seems… lavish,” she adds with a laugh. 

“You get used to it,” Mori shrugs, offering her a smile. “Really, the only difference between a private beach and a public beach is the amount of people. The sky, sea, and sand are all the same.”

It’s weirdly profound, and she appreciates the sentiment. “You always know how to make me feel better about being a poor person in a rich person's world,” she says, after a moment.

He turns to her in surprise. “Is that how you see us? Just as rich people?”

For a moment, she worries that she might have offended him. She looks at him, but there is no anger in his face, only sincere curiosity. 

“Well… I used to,” she starts slowly. “To be honest, I was prepared to hate you all---”

He chuckles at this. 

“---but I realized very quickly that I was making unfair assumptions based on what I thought I knew,” she goes on candidly. “Yes, I’m still reminded daily of the fact that you’re all rich, but instead of it being what defines you in my eyes, it’s just another thing about you.” 

“I’m glad,” he says, offering her a smile. 

“And what about me?” The words are falling out of her mouth before she can check them at the door of her brain. “Am I just a poor person?”

His brows furrow, as though the question has disturbed him. “You’ve never been just a poor person to me, Haruhi,” he starts quietly. “You’ve been… you’re much more than your economic status.”

“A nerd, right?” She’s half-joking, but her heart is thumping in her chest. 

He turns his head to look at her. For a moment, he doesn’t speak, and Haruhi thinks she can see some sort of war going on in his head. “You’re here at Ouran because you’re smart,” he says. “That makes you special. The rest of us… well, we might be out of luck if our parents weren’t rich. But you worked hard to get here, and I think that’s amazing.” He pauses, inhaling and exhaling, and it feels like something has shifted with that exchange of oxygen. “Haruhi,” he continues quietly, “do you…” He trails off, shaking his head as if to clear it. She thinks he’ll start again, but he falls silent. 

“Mori-senpai?” Her words are hesitant, hoping her tone encourages him to continue whatever he’d been about to ask. 

“Takashi,” he murmurs, flashing her a sheepish grin. “You can call me Takashi.”

She opens her mouth to respond, but just then they crest over a hill and find themselves face-to-face with Tamaki and the twins. It isn’t long before Honey and Kyouya catch up to them, and from there things dissolve into antics much like the ones that take place in Music Room 3. 

*****

“Where is everyone?” 

Kyouya looks up at her from his lounge chair. “Tamaki and the twins spotted a group of girls over at the other end of the beach. I’m sure they’re trying their best to impress said girls with corny pickup lines.”

Haruhi laughs. 

“Honey-senpai is sunbathing,” Kyouya goes on, motioning to the tiny, still figure on a towel a few yards away. “Mori-senpai went looking for seashells.” He looks at her over the rim of his glasses. “He’s just over the crest of that hill over there, in case you want to find some shells too,” he adds meaningfully. 

“I…” Her face flushes. “He told me I can call him Takashi.”

Kyouya’s eyebrows go up. “Well then,” he smirks, “why are you standing here talking to me?”

*****

“Hi,” she says, when she finally catches up to him. “Find anything good?”

“Mm,” he murmurs, holding his bucket out for her to see. He’s collected quite a few, all different shapes and colors. 

“They’re beautiful,” she smiles. “Do you mind if I join you?”

“Of course I don’t mind.”

They walk in silence for a bit, not terribly close to one another but near enough for Haruhi to drop shells in the bucket whenever she finds them. It’s strange, she thinks. The silence between them isn’t awkward the way she expected it to be. It’s comfortable, and she wonders if it’s a reflection of how comfortable she’s come to feel around him. 

“That color looks nice on you.” 

He says it so quietly at first that she isn’t sure she’s heard him correctly. She glances at him. His eyes are on the sand, not her, but his cheeks are slightly pink. 

“Thanks,” she says, feeling her own cheeks warm up. “I… this isn’t usually my style, but Hitachiin-San was nice enough to make it for me.”

“It’s perfect,” he murmurs. “I… I hope you don’t mind me saying that.”

“Are you kidding me?” Her mouth is doing it again: letting the words come out without clearing them with the filter in her brain first. “To think that you even noticed… Sometimes I wonder if you see me at all---” She claps a hand over her mouth, eyes wide as she looks at him. 

He doesn’t seem surprised or upset at her words. There is, however, that familiar gaze of genuine curiosity. “Haruhi?” He says her name questioningly, haltingly. 

Her heart is pounding away in her chest, so loud in her ears that she wonders if he can hear it from where he stands a few feet away. “Mori-senpai---”

“Takashi,” he interrupts her firmly. 

“Takashi,” she repeats, the word fitting strangely in her mouth, but not altogether uncomfortable. After all, she’s been calling him by his given name in her head for what seems like ages now. “Takashi,” she starts softly, her eyes on the sand beneath her feet, “how… would it weird you out if I… if I told you that I like you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so, so, sorry it took me so long to get this chapter up! Life's been a little busier than usual. But the next chapter is the last one, and I promise it won't be as long before I post that one. 
> 
> If you're still reading, I sincerely appreciate you. Thank you!


	10. With You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You mean,” he starts slowly, carefully, as though he’s measuring his words, “you don’t like Tamaki?”
> 
> The question throws her off for a moment. “What on earth would make you think that?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is probably the shortest chapter of this whole affair, but I hope that doesn't make it any less enjoyable.

The silence that follows her question seems like forever, but in reality Haruhi knows it’s only been a few seconds. Part of her can’t believe she’s let the words slip; can’t believe the secret that she’s worked so hard to guard for so long has finally been let out. 

The other part of her feels an odd sense of relief.  _ Whether or not he feels the same, _ she thinks to herself almost abstractly,  _ the weight is off of my chest. _

The thought is strangely comforting. 

“Like me,” he repeats the words, his voice so low Haruhi thinks he might be talking to himself. “Like me, as in…?” He trails off, letting his eyes meet hers. She’s tempted to look away, but can’t quite bring herself to. She’s started this by opening her mouth and spilling her secret. To avoid the fallout would be the coward’s way. 

“Like you,” Haruhi starts, taking a deep breath, “as in, whenever I see you, my stomach gets all nervous and twisty inside, and I worry about saying the wrong thing or doing something stupid.” The words are tumbling out of her mouth again, bypassing the filter in her brain, but she isn't inclined to stop them. She’s come too far now to back out. “Like you, as in I couldn’t sleep for days when I overheard Nakamura-san confessing to you because I was so afraid you’d tell her yes and you’d belong to her from that point on. Like you, as in I think you’re kind, and handsome, and intelligent, and your presence has this weird grounding effect on me that I miss when I’m not around you.” She exhales. “I like you, Takashi. I don’t think I’ve ever liked anyone this way, and I can’t eloquently put it into words the way some other girl might, but…” She shakes her head. “But my feelings are real, and they’re sincere, and I wasn’t planning on telling you at all, but here we are.”

She takes a deep breath, the monologue making her feel like she’s run an entire marathon. There’s a tight feeling in her chest, her heart still pounding wildly, and she forces herself to hold her chin up, even though all she wants to do is run back to Kyouya’s beach house and hide under the covers of her ridiculously large bed. 

He’s looking at her now, and there’s a mixture of shock and confusion on his face. Haruhi knows he’s processing her words, and she wonders briefly what his reaction will be when the meaning of the words finally catches up with him. More shock, she suspects. 

“You mean,” he starts slowly, carefully, as though he’s measuring his words, “you don’t like Tamaki?”

The question throws her off for a moment. “What on earth would make you think  _ that?” _

“You said he was your favorite host,” Takashi replies. 

She has to filter through the memories in her brain, and it takes a moment to place the words and why he’d say them. Understanding dawns on her, and she chuckles a bit. “Oh, no,” she says softly. “I  _ knew _ that would come back to bite me in the butt.”

Quizzically, he looks at her. 

“That night, when Honey-senpai asked me,” she begins, “I wasn’t… he asked me who my favorite was. I wasn’t saying Tamaki,” she explains. “Your given name was part of the way out of my mouth when I realized two things: one, you hadn’t given me permission to call you by your given name, and two, if I said you were my favorite host, you’d know how I felt about you. I was scared of what might happen if you knew.”

He closes his eyes briefly, the words sinking in. “So you stopped,” he says slowly, putting the pieces together, “and we wrongly assumed you meant Tamaki.”

Haruhi nods. “I’m sorry,” she offers sheepishly. 

“Haruhi…” 

She doesn’t know if she’s ever been looked at so intensely by anyone. It is a bit unnerving, but not unwelcome. “Yes?” 

“Do you have any idea how happy it makes me to hear you say that?” He shakes his head. “I thought you were head over heels for Tamaki, and I’d convinced myself to let it happen and not get in the way. Even,” he continues, “when you showed up at dinner last night in that dress--” he cuts himself off. “I like you too, Haruhi. So much that I couldn’t even entertain the thought of being with Azumi-chan, even if it meant I’d never tell you how I feel. Even if it meant watching you get together with Tamaki. I want to see you happy, so I would’ve accepted it. But I’d be lying if I said I wouldn’t rather see you happy with me. I… I  _ adore _ you, Haruhi.”

_ This is seriously like something out of a shoujo manga, _ she thinks to herself, almost hysterically. Haruhi has never been a cryer, but she feels her eyes well up from the sheer relief of having it all out in the open; of baring her feelings to him and knowing that those feelings are mutual. “Your words are like poetry,” she breathes, turning her face up to look at him. “Would it… would I be asking too much if I asked for a kiss?”

Morinozuka Takashi is tall; as they are, Haruhi is at eye level with his chest. Without hesitation, however, he leans down, placing his hands on Haruhi’s shoulders, and grants her request. 

Like the boy who bestows it upon her, the kiss itself is gentle, his lips surprisingly soft as they press against hers. Instinctually, she closes her eyes, relishing the feeling of his mouth on hers as the sun warms them both and the sound of the waves lapping gently against the shore sets the background for the beginning of what Haruhi thinks is going to be something amazing. 

She marks the moment in her mind, branding it onto her memories so that she can pull it out and play it over and over again whenever she wants. It’s over far too soon, but no matter; she thinks it is to be one of many, many more. Takashi pulls back, his warm, large hands still on her shoulders, and Haruhi exhales softly. 

“That was wonderful,” she murmurs, the butterflies in her stomach still fluttering. 

He smiles at her then, and she thinks it’s probably the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen. 

*****

“Well, it’s about time,” Kyouya remarks dryly, as the pair approach him. He notices their hands, the way their fingers are linked together, and the radiant smile on Haruhi’s face. Mori’s face is less expressive, but the light in his eyes is just as telling as that beaming smile of hers. “So,” Kyouya starts casually, “who confessed first?”

Sheepishly, Haruhi raises the hand that isn’t holding tightly to Mori’s. “I did,” she admits, her face flushed red.

“And to think,” Kyouya sniffs, feigning disdain. “You told me you’d never.”

All she can do is shrug. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are, at the end of this little ditty. If you've made it here, that means you stuck with me until the end. For that, I thank you from the bottom of my heart, and I hope I made it worthwhile for you!

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Ouran fic, and if you're reading it, my sincere thanks to you. 
> 
> While what happens in this fic doesn't really follow closely to canon, I tried to stay as true as possible to the personalities of the characters. I'm also not great at writing comedy, but I've tried to pepper in some comedic dialogue and moments to make it feel a little more Ouran-ish. Feedback is always welcome and much-appreciated. 
> 
> You can also find me on Tumblr [here.](https://tiny-wooden-robot.tumblr.com/)


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